


A Crown Fit For Anne

by crashboxhasmywholeheart



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Friendship, Gen, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Jerry and Anne are totally basically siblings, Mutual Pining, Picnics, Platonic Relationships, little itty bitty touches of Gilbert and Anne liking each other later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:42:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashboxhasmywholeheart/pseuds/crashboxhasmywholeheart
Summary: Miss Stacey has called for a school picnic and everybody's going to be all dressed up. When Anne can't get her hair right and Diana isn't there to aid her, she finds her saving grace in an unexpected person.





	1. Fires of the Heart and Fall Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'll admit, the last thing I saw myself doing was writing an Anne with an E fic, it's not my usual stuff. Nevertheless, my muse decided to grace me with this idea and who am I to argue?

Anne stood in front of her vanity, back stooped over and aching from her being on her feet for so long. She growled as her clumsy fingers slipped through her hair for the thousandth time that afternoon. 

Propped in front of her was the pamphlet she’d picked up when she had last accompanied Matthew into town. On its cover was a woman of exceeding grace, her hair piled high in an elegant array of braids. Anne had foolishly thought that she’d be able to emulate the style. She had no problem executing the simple plaits she wore on the daily, but Anne quickly found out that anything more complicated than that, instantly fell apart in her hands.

Anne’s hands curled, forming fists in her hair. She flung them by her sides and stormed out of her bedroom. Dashing away her social graces. Anne stomped down the stairs and by a startled Marillia, on her way out the kitchen. Even the lovely autumn breeze or the slanting rays of sunshine could not quell her rage. 

Her boots marched through scattered leaves of orange, yellow, and red. If Anne hadn’t been so cross she may have imagined herself to be Princess Cordelia, forging a path through a field of dancing flames. Princess Cordelia would know how to do her hair, in fact, Anne was sure it’d be secured in braids of a beautiful arrangement, from something like one of Diana's childhood storybooks.

Anne shook her head, her errant hair whipping around her face. She didn’t have time for daydreams or fanciful flights of the imagination. Anne had a particular target in mind and she stomped across the field in search of it.

She found what she was looking for among the rich rows of dirt. Jerry was crouched in front of a healthy cropping of stalks and leaves, which were the only indication of the potatoes that lay beneath the surface. The farmhand tilted his head upward to squint at Anne from below the brim of his cap.

“Hello, Anne. Here to lend a hand?”

“No, I most certainly am not!” Anne huffed, stomping her right foot and kicking loose dirt and onto the cuff of Jerry’s pants.

Jerry’s grin was swept from his face, as he lost his balance and fell onto his backside.

“What did I do?” he asked holding up his gloved hands in a show of his surrender.

“Exist!” Anne sang to the sky.

“With your fancy french locks, piled all pretty atop your head like a show dog and even worse you’re a boy, so you can just go shoving it all under your cap!”

At this Anne snatched the cap from Jerry’s head. He jumped to his feet to make a grab at it, but Anne danced away, keeping the cap tucked firmly behind her back. 

“Anne, I’m trying to work,” Jerry said, attempting to slip a gangling limb behind her back.

In response, Anne extended her arm and dangled the cap high above her head. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten that Jerry had recently encountered a growth spurt, and now had a good couple of inches on her. He reached over Anne’s head and effortlessly plucked his cap right out of her hands.

“Thank you very much,” Jerry said.

He settled his hat back on his head and gave Anne a smug smile before returning to his crouch and burying his hands back in the dirt.

“Jerry how could you be so unfeeling!”

Anne dropped to her knees, beside him. She knew Marilla would scold her over the stains on her stockings, but currently, there were more important things at stake than properness.

Jerry attempted to pull up another potato stalk but was thwarted when Anne latched on to his arm. Jerry gave a long sigh and finally gave up trying to work. He rolled his head back so that Anne had a full view of his tight lips and squinted eyes.

“What could be so important, Anne?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked. You see, tomorrow, Miss Stacey is hosting a picnic, to help us practice our etiquette and manners. She told us to dress the part and come to school as young lords and ladies. My dress is just fine, but my hair Jerry, my hair, oh it’s going to look dreadful.”

“Why don’t you just braid it up like you usually do?”

“Jerry weren’t you listening at all! I’m supposed to look like a  _ lady _ tomorrow. Having red hair is curse enough, but red hair done up plainly. I may as well just not show up!”

Jerry tried to tug his arm free of Anne’s grasp, but she held firm. After one more fruitless attempt, he quit struggling and fell back in the dirt with a drawn-out sigh.

“Couldn’t someone else help you with this?”

“If only,” Anne said, with a sigh. “I know that if the stars had just been aligned differently, then my dearest Diana would have been able to come to my aid.” 

Jerry’s head perked up at the mention of her bosom friend and conscious of it or not his lips sloped into a smile.

“Well, where is she?” Jerry asked, voice pitching upwards in the middle of his question.

It almost sounded like the baby birds that screeched for their mothers to feed them, at the start of spring. She supposed it meant that Jerry was growing. It would be unfair of her to fawn over the baby birds and then tease Jerry when both of them were just growing into their voices. Anne was mature enough to make mention of it and instead went straight to answering his question.

“Her mother is making her practice needlepoint.”

Jerry winced and his lips went thin with understanding.

“Yes, I know. It also means that I’m completely on my own which brings me back to my original problem of looking awfully plain. Oh Jerry, if things keep up the way they are now, tomorrow is going to be just tragic.”

Anne let her eyes flit closed in defeat and her head fell heavy on Jerry’s shoulder.

“What am I to do?”

A pause and then, “I could do your hair.”

“Jerry,” Anne groaned, “please do not patronize me.”

“Patronize?”

“P-A-T-R-O-N-I-Z-E, which means to pretend to be helpful when in reality you're only ridiculing someone.” 

“Ridiculing?” Jerry asked.

Anne lifted her head and pierced him with her gaze.

“You’re making fun of me Jerry.”

“I’m really not,” he said with a shrug, “but it doesn’t matter to me. The way I see it we can only move forward in one of two ways. One, you could let me help you braid your hair or two, I could get back to work. Either way, Anne, I cannot just sit here and listen to your girly problems.”

“I’m going to choose to ignore that last comment, but I am beginning to reconsider your original proposition. Tell me, can you really do hair?”

“Yes,” Jerry said, voice barely reaching above a mumble.

Anne’s heartbeat quickened as she gripped Jerry’s hands.

“And...and would you be so dear a companion as to do mine, even with me being such an awful bother to you?”

“If I say yes, will you let me get back to work?” Jerry asked.

“Yes! I absolutely swear it!”

Jerry let his head loll to the side. His gloved hand rubbed at his chin as if he was really thinking it over. Anne was tempted to bat at his hands, but she dare not lest she make Jerry less inclined to help her. 

Finally, he dropped his thoughtful expression, and simply said, “okay, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, thank you, Jerry!”

Anne fell forward, flinging her arms around Jerry’s neck and drawing him close to her. She knew it was quite unbecoming of her, but she was just so grateful that he’d saved her from such a dreadful fate.

“How would you get along without me?” Jerry asked over her shoulder. His words may have taken the form of a taunt, but he couldn’t fool Anne. She could still hear the heavy undercurrent voice of fondness in his voice. 

When Anne released him, Jerry leaned forward, his eyes wide and imploring.

“I still have a lot to do today and if you sleep on it tonight, your hair won’t look as pretty tomorrow.”

Jerry hesitated, rubbing his gloved hand over his knee.

“If you’re willing, I could come early tomorrow morning. We could meet out by that old willow.”

Jerry paused to point out the grand old tree that rose high enough to wave at Anne’s window. His hands returned to his lap and he wrung at them as he continued on with his proposition.

“I could do your hair. Then you could go to school straight after, and I’d start my work, as I usually do.”

Anne nodded her head so feverently it made her neck ache.

“Jerry you’re a genius! I couldn’t have come up with a finer plan!

Jerry preened at her words, back straightening up and lips splitting into a smile.

“Well,” Anne said, “I’m a woman of my word, so I’ll be letting you get back to work.”

Anne gestured to the rows that lay before them and with a wink and said, “pull up some good ones for me.”

No longer having to worry about the picnic, Anne set out in search of Marilia, who she felt was owed some kind of an explanation for her earlier dash through the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This chapter was mostly just setting things up and the next one we'll get to the whole hair braiding thing. I'm excited to hear what you guys think!!! Kudos/comments are much appreciated. Until next time my lovelies :)


	2. (Gentle) Flames In the Farmhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerry proves that his hands are capable of more than farm work.

Anne crept down the porch steps, drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders; it was all she could do to ward off shivers. Harvest season was upon Avonela, which meant that the mornings were now accompanied by a delightfully chilly breeze. She was grateful for its presence as it helped to awaken her senses. 

Anne had, quite literally, woken up at the crack of dawn; as soon as she heard the first crow of the rooster she had leapt out of bed. She hurried to the basin and brushed her teeth and washed her face in darkness. Her dress remained on its hanger, on the back of her bedroom door. She dare not don it, lest it be dirtied up before she even reached the schoolhouse. Instead, Anne was wearing a simple frock, one that had already been slightly muddied up a few days before. The last thing she grabbed was the wicker basket she’d packed, the night before.

As Anne neared the willow tree, she was able to make out a thin elbow poking around the side of its trunk.

“Jerry,” she whispered, “is that you?”

The figure’s elbow disappeared. Anne slowed her gait. Her eyes strained, but she couldn’t make out much with the sun’s rays just beginning to creep along the ground. 

Anne’s heart began to thud a little harder, a little faster. No one knew she was out here. Marilla and Matthew wouldn’t wake for at least another hour. Frightful scenarios flashed through her mind: being dragged away, being tied up, being snatched into servitude, being harmed, or even being killed. Evil had tainted Green Gables in the form of those borders from before. Who’s to say that, such an evil could not return? Anne shoulders were racked with shivers and not just from the morning’s chill.

“Jerry?” she tried one more time.

Anne's eyes struggled to readjust as a dark blur shot out from the other side of the willow’s trunk. Startled, Anne stumbled back. The back of her right foot caught on her left one and she was falling through the air. Her breath went flying out of her as she hit the ground.

In a matter of seconds, Anne had rolled onto her stomach and clambered to her feet. She refused to be rendered helpless again. She was about to take off running when a familiar sound stopped her. Ice crept up her ankles and raced up her thighs, leaving her legs frozen.

Laughter flighty enough fit an imp raced through the early morning air. Anne’s pigtails whipped against her cheeks as she twisted her body around. She was greeted by Jerry Baynard who’s soft features were being warped by a devious grin. Shadows played over his face in a way that made him almost unrecognizable. 

“I’m sorry,” Jerry said, bending over at the knees, “but I just couldn’t help it.”

“You too could have helped it!”

Anne’s heartbeat wasn’t slowing, wasn’t slowing down at all. In fact, it seemed to be thudding even faster as if there was a stampede occurring in her chest. Air left her as soon as she took it in and there was an awful roaring in her ears. Anne needed to do something, she needed to give her body some sort of release. Her darting eyes settled on the hunched over form of Jerry Baynard. Anne marched over to him and before he could even pick his head up, she gave him a solid shove.

Jerry stumbled back a few steps, but to her frustration, didn’t fall. 

“Woah, Anne. Hold on a second! I didn’t mean anything by it!”

Anne barely even heard the words. Instead, she rushed at him again, her gangling arms raised and a war cry erupting from her lips, “Jerry Baynard, you pig!

Jerry leapt aside, Anne just barely missing him. Refusing to be slighted, she turned around and barreled into Jerry’s side. Again, he didn’t topple, but Anne would not give up. Her feet dug into the dirt and she continued to yell into his ears, “you mean, crude, immature, little pig!”

“Anne please!” Jerry hissed.

Anne was wickedly satisfied to hear the smugness gone from Jerry’s voice. 

“You’re going to wake Marillia and Matthew. We’re going to get in trouble!”

Anne stopped wriggling at this. Jerry seized the opportunity. He grabbed hold of Anne’s wrists, not hard enough to hurt, but not gentle enough for her to be able to break away. Anne stared Jerry down, her eyebrows furrowing and her lips screwed up in a snarl; she hoped that she looked like one of the fierce lionesses’ of the savannah.

Jerry’s eyes were wide and frantic as a stream of words feel from his lips. 

“I really didn’t mean for that to happen. You’re always so brave, all I was really expecting was for you to jump a little. Really!”

Anne looked down at Jerry’s hands which were still wrapped around her wrists. Jerry immediately released Anne, stepping back and wringing his hands in earnest. His gaze was to the ground when he said, “I’m sorry, Anne. Honest.”

Anne could hear the sincerity, seeping through his words. She didn’t appreciate being spooked, not one bit and her heart was still beating a bit too fast for her liking, but Jerry didn’t mean any serious harm. She supposed she could forgive him.

“I believe you, Jerry,” Anne said, “but don’t you dare try anything like that again.”

Jerry nodded and Anne stepped back and smoothed her hands down her frock. Eager to move on from the event, she said, “we should hurry and get out of the open. I’d hate to think of what could happen if Marilla were to awaken and see us.”

Jerry’s gaze darted to the Cuthbert’s house as if Marilla was watching them right now.

“Come on,” Anne said, grabbing Jerry’s hand and leading them away.

Jerry didn’t even bother to ask where they were going. They’d walked this path too many times for him not to know. The farmhouse looked sublime in the morning’s light, its figure cutting a stately shadow against the rosy hues of morning. Anne could practically feel the softness of the sunrise sloping over her shoulders. 

As Anne and Jerry tromped through the grass, Anne’s ankles became wet with morning dew. By the time they reached the farmhouse, the hem of her dress was damp. She didn’t mind it in the least, in her mind, it was as if she’d received a thousand tiny kisses, from each blade of grass.

Jerry seemed less fond of nature’s embrace, instead choosing to tug his cap down tighter and fold his arms over his chest. He let his shoulders relax, only as they crept into the barn’s interior.

The two split off from each other as they entered. Anne went to the storage cupboard, gathering what they needed from there: an iron lantern along with a box of matches, which she had stashed away yesterday. Her arms full, she somehow managed to mount the ladder to the loft.

Jerry was there, smoothing down the corners of a checkered blanket. He gave Anne a cheeky grin as she came in to view. 

Anne waddled over to him and unceremoniously dumped all the items from her arms onto the blanket. She scooped up the lantern and matches and moved away from the little area that Jerry had created. Anne struck the match against the side of the lantern. She couldn’t resist holding it up to her eyes, marveling at how the little flame flickered and danced. Only for a moment though, she’d already experienced a building on fire once and preferred not to again.

She stuck her freckled, skinny wrist past the lantern’s glass and let the flame of the match leap to that of the wick. As soon as she was sure it was lit, Anne withdrew her hand and shook her wrist, outing the match.

She carried the lantern back over to their blanket, bringing the warmth and light with her. Jerry barely took any notice, absorbed as he was with unpacking and inspecting the hair items from Anne’s basket.

Anne sat there and watched him go through her personal items; it was a strangely intimate experience. Jerry scrutinized her brush, running his fingers over the bristles, he inspected her ribbons casting aside the ones he deemed no good, and he compared her two combs. Once Jerry had finished all the hair instruments were laid out beside him in a neat row. It was odd to see him like this, so focused, so methodical, she knew he worked hard out in the fields, but when it was the two of them Jerry was always so loose, so easy.

Finally, he looked up at Anne, blinking at her and then the lantern as if he had never seen either of them before.

“Are you quite alright Jerry?”

Jerry blinked a few more times, the haze in his eyes finally clearing.

“Yes, it’s just...you have good taste, is all. These are all very beautiful.”

“They are aren’t they?” Anne asked, with a sigh, “they all used to be Marilla's.”

Anne grazed a gentle hand over the back of the bronze brush, adoring the way her fingers slid into the worn grooves of its surface.

Jerry cleared his throat after a few moments of respectful silence.

“We should begin if you're to get to school on time.”

“Of course,” Anne said.

She raised her arms, latching onto the end of one of her pigtails and ready to unravel it. However, Jerry reached up and caught her hand before she could start.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to do that. It would give me a good feel for your hair before I…you know,” Jerry gestured vaguely.

Anne nodded as her way of permission and let her arms fall by her side.

Jerry was sitting forward, his legs folded under themselves and all of his weight resting on his knees. He gestured in front of him, with an awkward curve to his lips, completely avoiding Anne’s gaze.

Anne lowered herself to the ground and turned around until she was sitting with her back to Jerry. Her legs were crossed over each other in the most ladylike way that she could manage, while still being comfortable.

She almost jumped when she felt his fingers graze her hair. With a gentleness Anne had not known him to possess, Jerry took the end of her left pigtail and pulled the white ribbon loose. He lay the ribbon beside him and began to trail his fingers through the end of the braid. It wasn’t long before her hair fell loose, tumbling just past her shoulders. He repeated the process with her right pigtail, never once complaining or rushing through the movements.

As soon as her hair was free, Jerry picked up the brush and began to guide it through her tresses. Anne braced herself; she was ready to feel the sharp pinch on her scalp when he inevitably hit a tangle. 

However, it never came. Jerry’s hands deftly worked their way through every snag, saving her from the painful sensation. After a while, Anne let her shoulders sink and her eyes drift close. It was nice to have somebody do this. The last time Diana had done her hair it was months ago. Jerry, admittedly, did just as good of a job as her dearest friend did, maybe even better. Not to say that Diana was rough with her, but Jerry was ever so gentle, taking the same care no matter how many times the brush snagged in Anne’s hair.

“Jerry?” Anne asked.

Jerry hummed, his hands not pausing in their ministrations.

“I hope my hair is not too much trouble, I myself find it quite unruly and dreadful to deal with.”

Jerry chuckled and Anne felt the brush settle in her hair.

“Anne your hair is not as bad as you think it is. It’s actually pretty tame or at least much easier to deal with than my sisters’.”

“Really? Tell me about them, won’t you, you never talk about your family.”

“Not much need to,” Jerry said and Anne can practically hear the shrug in his voice.

“I have five siblings and out of those, I have three sisters, one younger and two older. The oldest, Adaleiane, got married and moved out months ago, she’s alright I guess, but she acts too uppity sometimes. Florentine is the one that’s closest in age to me out of all my siblings. She’s the one that annoys me the least, except when I do her hair. It takes forever because she refuses to cut it—lets it grow out all the way down her back for no reason at all. Celeste is the baby of our family, eight years old, I always get stuck doing her hair. It’s dark like mine, but a thousand times thicker. It’s an absolute nightmare to get a comb through, plus she never stops squirming.”

“Wow,” is all Anne is able to say.

She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to grow up with so many siblings, true blood siblings; not like the mean children who would turn their nose up at her when she came from the orphanage to live with them. Being completely honest, even now, she would have liked at least one sibling, but she was also grateful that she didn’t have to share Marilla and Matthew with anyone else. That’s why she liked having Jerry around; sometimes, in moments like these, it almost felt as if they could be related.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Anne said, “why is it that you always get stuck doing their hair?”

“It’s all Adaleiane’s fault,” Jerry sighed. “One time, when we were kids, I told her that I fancied some girl who lived two houses down. She convinced me that knowing how to braid hair would impress her.”

“Did it?” Anne asked.

“No,” Jerry scoffed, “it was all apart of her evil plan. The second she realized that I could actually do hair, she started recruiting me to do her’s. Then my mother found out and started making me do Florentine and Celeste’s to save time. I had no choice, but to be good at it.”

“Oh,” Anne said.

She bit her lip before saying, “you know that if you don’t want to do my hair, you don’t have to. The last thing I’d want to do is force you into doing something for me.”

Anne almost blanched at the thought of putting Jerry in the position that she’d been in too many times. She’d done enough of performing menial chores for people too lazy to do it themselves, to know that it was cruel and demeaning.

“Anne, don’t be ridiculous. I’m the one who offered to do your hair, I’m here by choice. Besides doing your hair is a thousand times better than doing my sister’s. You’re actually grateful for it and you don’t slouch and keep your head up straight. You’re practically perfect at this.”

Anne couldn’t help but preen at that. She'd been told she was a lot of things: imaginative, a faithful friend, a joy, and a studious student to name a few, but perfect was not a word that people usually associated with her. It felt nice, made it seem as if, one day, she could be one of those ladies who carried themselves with such grace.

“Thank you, Jerry,” Anne said, breath just soft enough to be heard over the singing of the morning birds.

Jerry hummed in response. He kept guiding the brush through her hair again and again until the brush’s bristles flowed through her hair like the rich butter that Anne sometimes helped Marilla churn. 

There were times when Jerry’s fingers would graze her neck, but it never bothered her. It was an odd thing to think, but Anne imagined that if she had grown up with a father and if he ever did her hair, he’d do it just like Jerry.

When Jerry finally lowered the brush, Anne’s hair felt as light as the dust particles dancing in the light. He picked up one of the fine-toothed combs, the smaller of the two and used it to guide Anne’s hair away from her forehead and face.

“How did you manage to get away from your parents?” Anne asked.

She’d been practically biting her lip all along, in an effort to keep herself from voicing the question. She knew it was improper to ask such things, but she just couldn’t ignore the allure of what could be an adventurous tale. 

“Oh,” Jerry said. He cleared his throat and continued, “well—sorry to disappoint Anne, but I didn’t really have to do much sneaking at all. I just—I don’t know, I just left earlier than I usually do.”

“And they didn’t notice?”

“No. Anne remember there’s four of us, not counting Adaleiane and my parents do a lot to keep everything going. That can’t watch over all of us all the time. They’ll just assume I went to work early, it’s no big deal.”

Anne twisted round to face him. The comb hitched in her hair as it was pulled from Jerry’s grip. He frowned at it and Anne mentally chided him for having his priorities all out of order.

“Jerry you’re wrong; it is a big deal. You deserve as much love as your parents can spare and even more than that if we’re being honest. If you were my son I’d take notice of every moment when you were not by my side.”

Anne expected him to scoff or to make fun of her for saying such things, but instead, Jerry plucked his cap off his head and said a quiet, “thank you, Anne.”

She gave his shoulder a light squeeze and then turned back around the right way so that Jerry could continue. He gave her hair a few more strokes with the comb before he finally sighed and placed the instrument beside him. 

“Alright, that’s all finished. Now, how would you like your hair?”

“I want you to pick,” Anne said, not missing a beat. “As long as I look lovely, I don’t mind much what you do.”

“A surprise then,” Jerry said, mirth dancing among his words.

Anne sat there for a minute or two, fiddling with the edges of her frock, while Jerry thought the whole thing over. She almost spooked again when Jerry spoke. 

“I know exactly what I’ll do. It was hard to decide at first, begging your pardon, but my options were kind of limited with your hair being so short. That aside, I think I’ve got it!”

Jerry really did sound excited to get on with it and it comforted Anne to know that he cared so much over it.

“Could you tilt your head back for me?” Jerry asked.

Anne let her head fall back until she could see up into the rafters of the farmhouse. The soft radiance of the dawn peeked through the gaps of the beams and made the ceiling look ethereal. 

Jerry’s hands were slightly hewn and Anne could feel the beginnings of calluses grazing her forehead. Nevertheless, his fingers were still soft in her hair and he used them to make a tentative and tiny part atop her head. 

Then his hands moved away and Anne could just feel Jerry’s hands hovering beside her head.

“What is it Jer?”

“Err...I have a request, it may be odd, but I want to make it anyway.”

Anne hummed, her blessing to continue.

“I picked up these flowers while I was on my way here. I know you like those kinds of things, flowers and trees, and butterflies and all that. I just...if you wanted that is, I was thinking that I could braid them into your hair.”

Jerry's voice got quieter and quieter as he spoke so that he ended his offer at nothing more than a mumble.

Anne, not wanting to mess up any of Jerry’s work so far kept her head straight, but tried her best to infuse her voice with every inch of her approval.

“Jerry, that would be absolutely divine! I would be supremely overjoyed to have such divine decoration in my hair! I couldn’t have even dreamt of something so pretty!”

“Oh, um, okay. I’ll put them in there then.”

Anne could practically sense the smile in his sentences.

With Anne’s approval secured, Jerry could finally begin. He took his time as he went down from her forehead, making sure every section of her hair was woven tight before moving on. Anne had no idea what he was doing, she could only let her curiosity manifest as sections of her hair was layered and tucked over and under each other. Every few moments Jerry would pause and then Anne would feel the stems of the flowers sliding against her scalp. Anne could feel Jerry sliding something else in there too, something thin and slender. She could only assume that he was making use of her pins to keep it all in place.

It was so lovely to have someone else do her hair for once, Jerry took so much more time than she did and made the process less of a chore and more of an experience. She had to admit it was nice, just the two of them like this. The sun had almost fully risen now; the dawn was seeping through the rafters, the birds sang melodious morning songs, and Jerry and Anne seemed to be sitting in the middle of it all.

Jerry hands grazed the tips of Anne’s ears and she resisted the urge to giggle or to move away. She’d be darned if she did anything to mess up Jerry’s delicate work. 

“I bet everyone will say you look pretty, at least that’s what everyone says to my sisters when I do their hair.”

“Oh, I hope they do,” Anne said with a sigh. “I have yet to recover from the abject humiliation of having to go to school with my head shorn like a sheep’s. Maybe if I look nice, it will put all of that out of everyone’s minds for good.”

“Hey, I kind of liked you with short hair,” Jerry said, his voice light and teasing, “it made visits to town a thousand times more interesting.”

“Fun as it may be, short hair doesn’t bode very well for an up and coming lady.”

“Forget being a lady. I think you should wear your hair how you like it.”

Anne blinked at the blatancy of his statement and then a smile stole over her face. Jerry and Miss Stacey would get along quite nicely she decided. 

“Actually,” Jerry said something dangerous threading his together words, “ now that I think about it, it sounds like you’re trying awfully hard to look nice for someone. Could it be that you’re aiming to impress that curly haired Blythe boy?”

A series of splutters erupted from Anne’s lips. She tried to turn around, to properly fuss at Jerry, but suddenly his hands seized in her hair and her head jerked against the force of it.

“Ow!” Anne yelped, eyes watering from the stinging of her scalp.

“I’m sorry,” Jerry said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you it’s just I—I panicked. This is a very important part of the braid and if it’s messed up I’ll have to start over and—and we won’t finish in time.” 

Anne huffed, “well it’s not the first time a boy has pulled my hair. I suppose I’m used to it now. I forgive you Jer, at least you didn’t have cruel intentions.”

She straightened her back and tilted her head back into position.

Jerry’s hands hesitantly found their way back into their hair. 

“I’ll have you know I’m doing my hair nice for me and me alone,” Anne said.

She hoped that Jerry couldn’t see the back of her neck. From the way it was prickling, she could guess that it was all flushed, whether from anger or embarrassment she didn’t know. 

It wasn’t long before Jerry fell back into his easy rhythm. It was refreshing to have Jerry like this, easy and speaking his mind, not with his face all twisted up in the concentration that came with hard work. She understood that Jerry had to work hard, still, she wished that he got the chance to go to school and be a kid like the rest of them. Anne affirmed that she was going to have to lure him away from his work more often.

Anne resolved to not bother him anymore and to just let herself enjoy the moment as it was. She let her eyes close and drift off to the land of Princess Cordelia. 

It wasn’t hard to come up with a situation that fit her own, the morning’s endeavor was already quite fantastical as it was. Anne imagined that, later that day, she was to attend a grand banquet at a neighboring castle. It was her sole responsibility to win over the lords and ladies of their court, in order to secure the renewals of peace. 

This court was certainly a challenge; they had a reputation for unsavory individuals, such as the rude Baron Bilius and the obnoxious Countess Jocelyn. There were some others that Anne didn’t mind as much such as Queen Eustacia, Lady Rubina, and Lord Morgan. However, that didn’t mean that Princess Cordelia was not under a tremendous pressure to impress. Besides, she would sooner battle a legion of trolls than exchange in social pleasantries. 

Then there was the matter of Sir Gilead. He was the one of which Princess Cordelia would be doing most of her dealings. He was the wisest of the court and was able to keep pace with her. She appreciated his passion and respected the even tone he kept, even in the midst of their impassioned negotiations. Dealings with him, although often complicated were quite fulfilling and she considered him a worthy adversary as well as an ally.

Princess Cordelia treasured those parts of the negotiations, they were intellectually stimulating and put her talent, wit, and sharp tongue to good use. However, the rest involved a fair amount of flattery and correctness. Princess Cordelia certainly had to act the part, but more importantly, she had to look it.

She trusted her attendants to prepare the proper dress, but Anne only trusted her kindred spirit, Lady Diane, to assist her in assembling a proper hairstyle. Tragically, though, her dearest Diane was being forced by her mother to attend to the royal tapestries. 

Of course, the day before the banquet Princess Cordelia fruitlessly attempted again and again to do her hair, the attendants too traditional to be trusted. After several failures, in a fit of irritation, Princess Cordelia fled her castle and escaped to the fields where she encountered the gruff yet caring Jeremiah, who offered to do her hair at the crack of dawn.

Princess Cordelia met him in the stables and whispering under the gentle whining of the horses they would share tales and laughter as he wove her hair into a fine arrangement.

“-nne. Anne!”

Anne was jolted out of her daydream, by Jeremiah's—no Jerry’s voice. She waited to feel the already familiar feeling of his fingers weaving her hair, but she felt nothing. Slowly, at the risk of having her head jerked again, Anne turned until she was facing her companion. 

Jerry's hands were empty of her hair and the pile of flowers beside him was gone. That could only mean…

“Is it finished?” Anne whispered.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry said, nodding to the mirror that lay beside them. His hands were cradled in his lap and Anne hoped that he hadn’t exerted too much energy on her. Maybe she could talk Matthew into giving him the day off.

“ _Anne_ _,”_ Jerry said waving a hand in front of her face.

“Oh right,” she said.

Anne reached for the mirror, closed her eyes, and then slowly raised it to her face. After a deep breath, she cracked open her left eye and then her right one, and then she gasped. Whatever Anne had been expecting, it had not been this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really happy with how this turned out! Hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as did writing it. Kudos/comments are very much appreciated :)


	3. Fire in Her Hair

For the first time in forever, Anne actually thought that her hair made her look…beautiful. No longer did her hair hang, limp and unadorned by her shoulders, instead it had been woven and wrapped around her head so that it almost appeared as a crown. And Jerry, oh wonderful and dearest Jerry, who understood her way more than she thought, managed to make the hairstyle so...Anne. 

For it wasn’t just a simple crown braid, no. The dainty white flowers that Jerry had tucked among her strands, softened her face and made her feel like a fairy or a Queen of the Forest. Their buds peeked from her roots as if she had grown them herself and their petals made the red of Anne’s hair seem less harsh and more lovely. Anne could almost hear their petals rustling and shifting, whispering pretty things in her ears.

Even better than that, Jerry had braided her hair loosely. Not loose enough to come undone, which would be prevented by the pins he’d tucked in place, but loose enough for Anne to not end up with a headache by the end of the day. As she turned her head from left to right, loose strands fluttered around her face, like butterflies. As they settled against her cheeks, they seemed to catch the slanting rays of the sun and glowed like a stoked fire.

To put it shortly, Anne was speechless. It was hard not to be. What Jerry had done was not just a simple braid, it was art. How he had managed to transform her into the ethereal figure blinking up at her from the mirror, Anne did not know. In fact, when Anne looked in the mirror, it was almost as if Princess Cordelia was gazing back from its surface. Princess Cordelia was Anne’s idealized version of herself. In her imagination, she was able to look and act however she pleased and while her actions held true, her appearance would almost always change. A tingle ran through Anne at the realization that for the first time she felt like she could fit the role of her fantasies.

The more Anne thought about it, the more it made sense. Princess Cordelia did not need to wear a crown made my man, her hair was woven as one, as proof that her right to rule came from within and not from any birthright. Her hair was a part of her and something to be admired. Better yet, instead of having it tight and prim, Princess Cordelia would surely have her hair looking just like this. The flowers made her look lovely and was a reminder that she was a protector of nature and all things divine and the light catching her hair made her look fierce and portrayed the fire and determination that burned in her blood. This, she decided, was how Princess Cordelia would appear in all her daydreams going forward.

It was almost too good to be true. Wanting to reassure herself that it was real, Anne reached a hesitant hand to her hair and patted it lightly. She gasped again when the soft feeling of her hair to her fingertips held true.

All of a sudden Jerry’s voice sounded behind her.

“If you don’t like it, I can take it out. I wasn’t sure if the whole thing would be too much or—”

Anne’s eyes found his in the mirror’s reflection and she watched Jerry’s throat bob as he swallowed his next words. He almost looked like a doe that she had once encountered in the woods, brown eyes wide and body tense and frozen as if waiting for an attack.

She didn’t like the look of Jerry, not one bit. She supposed she may have frightened him with how quiet she had been. She had to resolve this at once. 

Slowly, afraid that she may spook him, Anne lowered the mirror to the ground. She took her time shifting around and reached out until her hands were wrapped around his. He looked down at their hands, then back up at Anne, his gaze still frightened and cautious.

“Jerry,” Anne said, voice quiet as the world was waking up, “I have never looked, nor felt as exquisite as I do right now. You somehow managed to make me look romantical, like something out of a painting. If I could, I’d have a thousand portraits done of me right now.”

Anne watched as Jerry blinked away the fright from his eyes and then like a flower coming into bloom he turned bashful. A light dusting of pink painted his cheeks and Anne was able to catch his eyes crinkle before he ducked his head and they dropped out of sight.

“I couldn’t have even dreamt of anything prettier than this, Jer.”

Anne squeezed his hands, just so he knows how much she meant it.

Jerry looked back up and managed to hold her gaze, before he said, “thank you, Anne. You are very kind.”

A lovely warmth rushed through her when Jerry squeezed her hands back. The moment held like that for almost an eternity and Anne was happy to let it carry on, but then Jerry gently pulled his hands away. 

“We should probably go. I did take a bit longer than I expected too and we still both have places to be.”

“School can wait,” Anne shrugged, “moments like these don’t show up very often in life, so when they do I’m willing to give them their due and deserved time.”

“That certainly does sound nice,” Jerry said standing to his feet, “but try explaining that to Mr. and Ms. Cuthbert.”

Anne blew out a heavy breath, she would rather go on existing in this part of her life for a long time, but she supposed Jerry was right. 

Jerry stretched out his back with an exaggerated yowl and then offered a hand to Anne. She took it and let her dear friend pull her to her feet. She almost yelped at the pins and needles that shot through her legs, but she held onto her dignity and didn’t.

Together they cleaned up the loft. Jerry folded the blanket back up into a neat square and placed it back on its shelf, while Anne packed all of her hair things back into her basket. Jerry blew out the flame in the lantern and then went down the ladder ahead of her to put it back in its proper place.

As Anne was climbing down the ladder, Jerry shouted, “watch your head.”

“I’m a competent independent lady of the 19th century Jerry, I think I know how to climb a ladder.”

“You, I could care less about,” he said, holding out his arms to help her down the last few rungs, “it’s my handiwork, that I’m watching out for.”

As punishment for his snark, Anne flung the basket below her and Jerry just barely managed to catch it with his hands and not his chin.

“Well maybe you should watch out for me a little more,” Anne teased as she hopped off the ladder and plucked the basket back out of his arms.

“Point made,” Jerry said, a grin still framing his face, showing that it was all in good fun.

Jerry pushed the door open for them and Anne blinked against the bright sunlight that suddenly hit her face. Jerry was right, some time had passed, at least an hour and some minutes to be sure. Judging from the pale blue of the sky, Anne would guess that she had about a good hour left before she had to set off for school.

“Oh, Jerry,” Anne said spinning a small circle, “I can’t wait to show Matthew and Marilla, they’re going to love this, I just know it.”

“I sure hope so,” Jerry said. He stuck his hands in his pockets and then tilted his head to the side to show off more of his smile, “you’ll have to tell me what they say.”

“Nonsense,” Anne said, reaching over and grabbing his hand, “they’ll tell you themselves."

Jerry stopped in his gait, his eyebrows shooting up his face.

“Anne, I don’t want anyone to know about this.”

“Well, why ever not?” Anne asked.

Truth be told, Anne had already made up her mind to tell anyone who asked (and didn’t) that Jerry was the source of her hair’s beauty. Jerry had magic in his fingers, just one look at Anne and anyone would see. 

“I just—don’t want people to know it was me, okay?”

“Jerry you should be rightly praised and that’s that. You’ll feel much better when you start hearing it.”

Anne started to pull Jerry towards the direction of the Gables house, but he tugged his hands out of her’s.

Startled, Anne turned back to find Jerry wringing his hands around each other. His head was hung as he watched his own feet shift in the dirt.

“Anne, I _really_ don’t want to.”

Just like that all of Anne’s resolve fell away. She knew that she was headstrong and could be stubborn at times, but the last thing she wanted to do was force people into what she wanted. 

She returned to Jerry’s side.

“You’re right Jer. If you don’t want to go then you shouldn’t have to. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, it’s just that you did such a lovely job and I know they’ll have great things to say and I want you to hear them.”

Jerry peeked up at her and his face softened.

“You mean well, I guess. Maybe—maybe I could just hang back by the door and hear what they have to say.”

“Only if you want to,” Anne said, bumping her shoulder against his.

Jerry perked up a little, squinted at the Green Gables and then gave his head a firm nod.

“I’ll do it. Besides, I think you’re at least a little right. I do deserve some praise."

"Okay, I’ll motion to you, out the window, when I’m going downstairs for breakfast."

At the mention of food, a loud grumble erupted from Jerry’s stomach. He looked down at his stomach, surprised, then up at Anne and the two of them burst into laughter.

“I’m supposing you didn’t eat any breakfast this morning?” Anne asked.

“No not at all,” Jerry said.

“I’ll be sure to sneak you something from the table,” Anne said with a wink.

“Merci,” Jerry said, turning his face away. Yet, Anne could still see the slight tinge that had returned to Jerry’s cheeks.

She left him leaning against the willow tree. 

* * *

Anne breathed a sigh of relief when she entered the almost silent house, neither Marilla nor Matthew were out of their rooms yet. She crept up the steps, careful to avoid the awfully creaky ones and tiptoed back to her room.

Anne stripped out of her dress, which had only gotten dirtier. 

On an afternoon spent with Marilla, Anne had been busy bemoaning not having a proper picnic dress. The older woman had gone digging among her old clothes and had come up with a suitable dress. It was by no means the most modern thing, but Anne liked it more like that; one could even say that it had a rustic charm.

Anne slipped her dress off of its hanger and let it flutter over her body. The dress was dyed a gentle lavender that made Anne’s skin seem not so pale. It was decorated in the loveliest way, a white lace trim danced up and down the arms of her dress and along the hemline. Small and delicate ribbons adorned the dresses collar, which rose around her neck. The dresses billowing fabric swirled and swished around Anne’s legs and it’s puffed sleeves made her feel as light as air. With every step Anne took, it was as if she were floating or stepping upon clouds.

For once, the girls did not have to wear the pinafore that often muffled the cloth beneath. Anne’s dress drifted around her untethered and she felt like an absolute dream. She had worn her cleanest stockings and the purity of the white matched the flowers that peeked through her tresses.

Anne was mid-turn when a sudden knocking had her tripping over her own feet. She lost her balance and tumbled to the floor. 

“Anne!” Marilla called.

The door started to open, but Anne stumbled to her feet and threw her weight against it.

“Good morning, Marilla” Anne called through the wood, “I am perfectly alright; I promise.”

“Gracious child,” Marilla said, her voice edging towards scolding territory, “you give me the worst frights.” 

Marilla jiggled the knob again, but Anne held firm. Marilla was quiet for a moment before she asked, “why don't you open the door?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. Not yet at least. It is of the utmost importance that you not see me yet. The time is not right.”

“Oh Anne,” Marilla said with a sigh, “must everything be so dramatic?”

“I do not intend it to be if it’s any consolation.”

“Rest assured, it’s plenty.”

Anne could hear the smile in Marilla's voice and knowing she’d won, she finally let herself relax against the door.

“I promise I’ll be out in time for school. Is that alright?” asked Anne.

“I suppose so. Don’t dawdle now. It’s not very ladylike to be late.”

Anne didn’t back away from the door until the creaking floorboards signaled Marilia's descent down the stairs. That was certainly close, Anne would never forgive herself if she let the surprise be spoiled. 

Her impatient hands pulled on the knob of her dresser and Anne dug around until she found the large, white-lace, ribbon that Ruby had given her on her last birthday. She wrapped the ribbon around her midsection and hurriedly tied it into a bow. 

When she craned her neck around to look at it, though, she found it to be entirely drab and thin like a shoelace. Anne forced herself to pull it loose and try again. She tried her best to recall an afternoon during which Diana had shown her how to make a proper bow. Apparently, she’d remembered well because this time when Anne looked over her shoulder, she found her bow to be quite bountiful indeed. 

Satisfied, she moved on to making up her bed and tidying her room up from the mess she’d left it in the previous night. Another reason she was grateful that Marilla hadn’t come inside. Anne was just packing her school bag, when the glorious smell of breakfast being made, graced her nostrils. That meant that Marilla and most likely Matthew were downstairs now. It was finally time.

Anne haphazardly threw the rest of her belongings inside her school bag and swung it around her shoulders. She raced over the window and threw open its panes. 

“Jerry!” Anne called, hopefully not loud enough for Matthew nor Marillia to hear.

Quick as a mouse, Jerry’s figure came spinning around the side of the willow. Anne gave him a thumbs up and discerned him doing the same before she pulled the glass closed again.

Anne dashed over to the picnic basket and reached for the handheld mirror. She sought out her reflection, just to make sure that the morning’s events were no dream or another one of her fanciful flights of the imagination. 

Anne was overjoyed to see her own crinkled eyes were gazing up at her and Jerry’s wonderful handiwork still sat atop her head. She tilted the mirror to run the length of her dress and found no creases nor any stains. For once, Anne Shirley Cuthbert's, appearance matched exactly how she felt on the inside. Satisfied, she placed the mirror back into the basket and crept over to her bedroom door, edging it open. After peeking her head out and seeing no one around, she crept out into the hallway. 

She tip-toed down the stairs, as to not alert anyone of her presence. When Anne reached the kitchen archway, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and held her chin high as a lady would. Then Anne did her best waltz past the kitchen’s archway.

Matthew was the first to see her. His spoon fell from his hand and into his bowl with a clang. 

“Anne,” he whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. 

At the disturbance, Marilla turned her attention from the pot on the stove and her mouth hanging slightly open as she laid eyes on Anne.

“Good morning,” Anne said, suddenly shy. 

She wrapped her arms around her middle and teetered back and forth on her heels.

After receiving no response Anne added, “breakfast smells divine. Is it porridge?”

“Why yes. It is,” Marilla said. 

Marilla shook herself and turned back to the stove. She placed the lid over the pot and then busied over to Anne.

“What happened to you, child?” Marilla said, looking over Anne’s form as if she were a specter.

“What?” Anne asked, dismayed to feel her voice shaking, “Do you not like it?”

“No, no that’s not it at all,” Marilla hurried to say, “it’s just that you look especially lovely today.”

Marilia's lips curved into a shaky smile and her hands hovered just over Anne’s head.

“You can touch it if you like,” Anne said, bowing her head low.

“I—I couldn’t. It’s such fine handiwork and I shan't risk messing it up.”

When Anne lifted her head she found Marilla patting her own head,

“Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind my hair being done up in such a way.”

Marilla's eyes crinkled, her gaze suddenly softened by fond memories.

“And that dress certainly is becoming on you. You carry it well.”

Marilla ran a gentle hand down the lace lining of the sleeves and more to herself she muttered, “you’ll make a fine woman, Anne.”

“Thank you Marilla,” Anne said, laying a gentle hand atop her mother’s, “that means the world coming from you. You’re the most ladylike woman I know.”

“Well I don’t know about that,” Marilla said, shaking her head, “but it certainly is nice to hear so.”

A sudden hiss drew both ladies attention to the stove which, left to its own devices, had descended into disorderliness. The pot of porridge broiled and bubbles of it clambered out from beneath the lid.

“Heavens!” Marilla said, dashing back to their breakfast and doing her best to salvage the meal with her spoon.

It wasn’t long before the hissing died down, yet Marilla still busied over the pot, adding in spices and shortenings.

“And what do you think Matthew?”

Matthew startled in his seat and twisted around to face Anne.

“Well me,” he said wringing his hands over his pot,” me I—I say that you look like a picture book Anne.”

“Yes,” he said with more fever as he rose up out of his chair, “like the kind my mother used to read to me when I was a lad.”

He walked over to her and as soon as he was in spitting distance, he bent over at his middle, his face parallel to the ground. 

“Matthew,” Anne giggled, “what are you doing?”

Matthew perked up a bit, back still bent.

“Well isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when in the presence of a fair maiden? Bow?”

Oh,” Anne gasped, “well I guess you’re right then. Pardon my forgetfulness, my good sir.”

Matthew straightened out and with a wink, he said, “consider it forgotten.”

Anne giggled again and Matthew laughed too, deep and rumbling. Matthew held Anne's arm above her head and spun her in two grand circles. Anne could have kept on spinning forever, but Marilla voice cut through their grandeur. 

“Alright you two, Anne you still have school and your breakfast isn’t getting any warmer.”

Matthew ceased in spinning Anne and instead held his arm bent at an angle to Anne’s level. Anne laid her arm atop his and together they glided to the table. Matthew pulled out Anne’s seat and as soon as she was settled, he pushed it to the table. Matthew took his seat across from her and Marilla sat at the head of the table. Despite her prodding, the signs of an upcoming smile still sat on her mother’s lips.

“Anne,” Marilla said, “how did your hair come up in such a way? Excuse me for saying so, but I don’t remember you being able to do such a thing.”

“Well, Marilla, I would tell you, I swear it, but you see I have been sworn into secrecy. However, you can trust that this person is one of great character indeed.”

“Whoever it is,” Marilla said, “when you see them again, tell them that they did an excellent job and that they are in possession of a very special talent, indeed.”

“I’ll be sure of it,” Anne said, her eyes darting to the window. For a second she caught, Jerry’s rounded face, lit up by a glowing grin. Anne caught his gaze and he ducked out of sight. Nevertheless, he’d heard her parents praise and with that Anne could be satisfied.

Breakfast was over before Anne could even blink. She managed to sneak a few of the biscuits off the table and into her wicker lunch basket without anyone noticing. She was just about to set off for school when Marilla called out to her.

“Wait a moment, Anne. I can’t believe I almost forgot.”

Marilla left Anne clueless by the door. When her mother returned Anne spied something slight and white peeking out from the crook of her elbow. 

“These are for you,” Marilla said holding out whatever was cradled in her arms.

Anne took the material into her own hands and as she held it closer she found that they were gloves. As Anne donned them, the silk seemed to glow in the sunlight. The laced edges caressed her wrists and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt anything so soft in her own life.

“Marilla,” Anne whispered, not able to take her eyes off of the gloves, “they’re wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like them. I never wore them much. I’m just happy to see them go to good use.”

The warmth in Marilla’s eyes was so genuine that Anne was overcome with affection. Unable to control herself, she jumped forward, flinging her arms around Marilla’s middle. Her mother stumbled but held firm. Soft chuckles came streaming from Marilla as she returned the embrace.

“Goodness child, must every moment be so theatrical?”

“I don’t get to pick and choose,” Anne mumbled, into Marilla’s shirt. The cloth was entirely comforting, it was warm against her skin and it smelled of Green Gables. In all her years at the orphanage, Anne had dreamt of this: the gentle caress of a mother. Now she had it. 

The minutes they held each other weren’t nearly long enough, but eventually, Marilla pulled back. Her eyes were warm as she said, “now Anne you must be off to school or else no one will get to see how becoming you look today.”

Anne stepped back and after shouldering her school bag Anne took off from her home. She began to skip down the dirt lane, but then remembering her current state, she slowed her gait. Anne walked straight down the lane and when she was sure her parents weren’t watching she waved towards the willow tree.

After a few moments, Jerry slipped out from behind it and jogged towards her. Anne hurried to dig through her schoolbag and when Jerry finally reached her, she handed off three biscuits, still warm and wrapped up in a napkin.

He immediately stuffed half of one in his mouth and Anne wrinkled her face in disgust.

“Must you eat like that in the presence of a lady?” Anne asked with a sniff. She pointed her nose up in the air to elevate her exaggeration.

“Sorry milady,” Jerry said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

He stuffed the other half in his mouth and grinned at her with his cheeks full.

Anne didn’t even have the heart (nor the resolve) to scold him so instead, she just blew air in her cheeks to mock him. This actually got a laugh out of Jerry and he had to hurriedly cover his mouth in order to keep from spitting out his breakfast.

Anne laughed at his antics. After giving him enough time to recover, Anne voiced the question she’d been dying to ask.

“It felt good to hear what Marilla and Matthew had to say, didn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Jerry said, with a shrug. He popped another biscuit in his mouth, but there was no hiding the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I wish everyone could know,” Anne said.

“Anne,” Jerry said twisting his body so that he was walking backward, “you’re not going to go telling everybody about this are you?”

Anne gave a long drawn out sigh, “of course, not Jer. A promise is a promise. I am sworn not to tell a soul, no matter how much it pains me.”

“Good,” Jerry huffed, “I trust you.”

This made Anne feel slightly better. 

She let her eyes drift to the sky above them. It had long since darkened from the pale shades of the morning and now appeared as a deep and ravishing blue. Puffy white clouds, like bunches of cotton, raced across the sky, pushed along by a breeze that made Anne’s skirt flutter.

She was so caught up in the sky that she barely noticed that she was drifting from the path. Jerry had to outfit her arm with his, gently tug her back on course. He walked her as far as the fence, before releasing her. 

Jerry took hold of his cap and with the grand sweep of his arm, he bowed low before her. In response, Anne took her skirts in her hands and bent her knees to form a curtsy. She wobbled a bit as she rose back to her full height, but she at least managed to keep on her feet.

As Jerry straightened, he wrung his cap in hands. Then he nodded towards the fields and said, “I should probably get around to working now.”

“Yes,” Anne said, smoothing down her skirts, “I suppose so.”

Jerry reached out and tucked a loose strand on Anne’s back inside the braid and with a raised eyebrow he said, “remember to be careful now, that braid’s not invincible.”

“I will,” Anne said.

Jerry settled his cap back onto his head and gave Anne one more smile before turning and walking back to the fields.

Anne latched the gate closed, but she couldn’t resist the urge to say one more thing. 

“Jerry!” Anne called, leaning over the gate’s side.

Jerry turned around and squinted at her, his head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“Thank you! You are a true and dear friend!”

Jerry called back, “same to you Anne. Au revoiri!”

“Goodbye!” Anne yelled, waving at him, before hopping down from the fence and setting off down the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I especially enjoyed writing this chapter. Playing with how Anne sees herself/beauty conventions, as well as her interactions with Marilla and Matthew, was especially fun. Hope you all enjoyed! Kudos, comments, as well as any and all feedback, is always appreciated :)


	4. The Warm Caress of Companionship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The picnic takes place and Anne gets to catch up with all of her schoolmates.

The walk to school was a quiet one. Diana’s mother was walking her to school this morning, to secure that her ‘ _appearance stayed sound.’_ Sometimes, Anne really did feel bad for her friend. She knew that Diana’s mother was doing what she thought was best, but it seemed to Anne as if Diana didn’t always get the chance to be as much of a child as she should. 

Thankfully, Anne didn’t bump into anyone on her walk. She shuddered just thinking of the morning encounter she’d with Billy Andrews when she’d first arrived. 

Instead, Anne had to scenery all to herself and she marveled over the lovely array of oranges, reds, and yellows that danced among the tree’s branches. Crisp leaves crunched beneath her shoes and adorned the path on which she walked. The breeze stirred her skirts and caressed her cheeks as it passed. 

Anne heard the schoolhouse before she saw it, heard the chatter and laughter of her schoolmates. Her stomach dropped at the thought of facing them. ‘They’re just people,’ she tried to remind herself, yet she couldn’t stop envisioning Billy Andrews’ cruel smile or Josie Pye’s sneer. 

As the top of the schoolhouse came into view, Anne had to stop and collect herself. She bent over, letting her hands rest on her knees. Despite her best efforts, her breathing was beginning to turn short and sporadic. Anne squeezed her eyes shut.

“Come now,” she whispered to herself, “you’re a lady today and ladies do not panic in the middle of the road.”

Anne steeled herself and was prepared to rise no matter how she felt, but before she could, a hand came down on her shoulder. She jumped away and opened her eyes to see who it was, but the world was too bright. She blinked several times, in an effort to get her eyes to readjust. In the meantime, the figure drew closer.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the person said.

Anne knew that voice better than anyone’s, knew it’s clever inflection, it’s musical timbre. A few more blinks and Gilbert Blythe’s blurry face came into view. His eyebrows were furrowed and his face was scrunched up in a show of his concern.

“Are you alright?” Gilbert asked, “I saw you down the road bent over and I wasn’t sure—”

“Don’t worry about it Gilbert. I really am fine. It was just a…a quick dizzy spell.”

Anne smiled to prove it. Truly, she was already feeling much better.

“Okay,” Gilbert said, not sounding entirely convinced, “but you ought to at least sit down for a minute or two, just to make sure that you’re fully recovered. You can never be too careful.”

Anne was about to protest, but then she really looked into Gilbert’s eyes and found them to be swimming with worry. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to sit for just a while, if not for her own sake then at least for Gilbert’s.

Gilbert held out his arm and after a moment's hesitation, Anne took a hold of it. He lead them over to an old stump. Normally, Anne wouldn’t have thought twice before sitting on it. Now, looking at it, all she could see were the dirt and leaves that could easily so easily sully her appearance.

“What is it?” Gilbert asked, “is it not comfortable enough? I can find somewhere softer.”

“No, no, it’s not that! I just…”

Anne trailed off and looked down at her skirts.

“Oh!” Gilbert exclaimed, “how could I be so careless? Do excuse me, Anne, I’m not thinking clearly it seems.” 

Gilbert shrugged out of his suit jacket and laid it over the stump. He looked to her, his eyes so eager and so willing to help that it almost made Anne laugh.

“Thank you, Gilbert. You are most thoughtful.”

Anne lowered herself to sit, crossing her ankles over each other as she did. She tried to perch with as much poise as one could on a tree stump. She had to admit, being off her feet did seem to help. Her head stopped spinning as much and she was able to focus more on getting some good breaths in.

Now that the situation had settled, Anne was finally able to register (and appreciate) Gilbert’s appearance. He stood beside the stump, hands tucked inside his pants which were a light khaki (to match his suit jacket, of course). Gilbert was missing his usual vest, so Anne could easily see the white pearl of his shirt that was intersected with faint lines of red and yellow. His tie was a rich red, which Anne decided, made him look more lively. He’d even done something different with his hair, his curls combed and neatly parted on his head.

Anne hadn’t really noticed how much Gilbert had grown before, but now, upon closer inspection, it seemed obvious. Gilbert’s time away had lead to him building up some muscle and his shoulders properly filled out the sleeves of the shirt. He was taller now too; less gangling and more lean. 

Anne had to admit that it was nice to see Gilbert looking so, well nice. She tried her best not to be flustered, it didn’t have to be inherently romantic to think such things. Anne had eyes and she was mature enough to objectively admit that Gilbert looked quite handsome. However, when Gilbert turned her way, Anne’s gaze fell to her feet and she felt her cheeks heat in a horrible way.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Gilbert asked, “You look a little flushed.”

He bent forward and laid the back of his palm against Anne’s forehead.

Anne was determined not to embarrass herself, but Gilbert was making it hard. Distantly, Anne was aware that Gilbert saw all this as his medical responsibility, but he was also quite close to her right now and it was making her feel somewhat woozy again.

“I am fine, Gilbert.”

She reached up and wrapped both of her hands around the hand of Gilbert’s that rested on her forehead.

“I appreciate your concern, but really, it’s not necessary. I feel fine.” 

Gently as she could, Anne guided Gilbert’s hand away from her body and back to his own. 

“Oh, okay. Good then.”

Gilbert cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. He looked uncomfortable and Anne was unhappy to think that she was the cause of it. Gilbert had only wanted to help.

Anne reached out her gloved hand, gesturing for Gilbert to guide her to her feet. She decided that Gilbert could be plenty helpful in walking her to the schoolhouse. However, her plan quickly went awry when he did not do as he should have.

Gilbert glanced up at her as he took her hand in his own with great care. Then, without warning, Gilbert swooped down and pressed his lips to her hand. Even after he had straightened, the pressure of the kiss still lingered. 

Anne sat there, absolutely dumbstruck. What else were you supposed to do when Gilbert Blythe unexpectedly kissed you? They held their positions, Anne frozen on the stump and Gilbert frozen on his feet, her hand still laying in his.

All of a sudden, Gilbert’s mouth dropped open and his eyes went terribly big. 

“You—you were asking for help getting to your—to your feet weren’t you?”

“Um yes actually,” Anne said, withdrawing her hand from his. As she stood from the stump, Anne watched Gilbert’s cheeks flush until they were absolutely scarlet. She pretended not to notice, instead choosing to pick up Gilbert’s jacket and begin dusting it off

“I beg your deepest pardons, Anne,” Gilbert rushed to say, “I didn’t mean to be forward. I think it’s just because of your gloves and you do look especially like a lady today, that I just unconsciously assumed that, that's what I ought to do. I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable or cross or that—”

_Gilbert thought she looked like a lady?_

Anne already knew his words held true, Gilbert Blythe was the most chivalrous boy she knew, of course, he wouldn’t just go impressing himself upon her. However, she stayed silent and allowed Gilbert to babble out his apology. If she cut him off too early, she knew she’d be hearing apologies for at least another week. 

Anne let Gilbert go on until she could no longer take it. The boy was talking himself silly.

“Gilbert,” Anne said, laying a hand on his shoulder. Its effect was instantaneous, Gilbert dropped off mid-sentence and he stilled beneath her touch. 

“It was an honest mistake. I will admit it caught me a bit off guard, but it was not an unpleasant experience. In fact, I must say, it was rather nice to be treated like a lady.”

“Oh good” Gilbert sighed, laying a hand on his forehead. “I was quite terrified that I’d gone and messed everything up between us.”

“Our friendship is here to stay Blythe. You’ll have to try a bit harder if you’d like to scare me off.” 

Anne winked at him and tossed his coat into his chest. Gilbert fumbled to catch it and as soon as he looked up, Anne was already setting off down the path.

“Let’s get to school now, we can’t be late.”

Unbeknownst to Anne, Gilbert lingered behind, staring after her and shaking his head for a solid three seconds before shrugging into his jacket and jogging to catch up to Anne. They didn’t talk the rest of the way there; they didn’t need to. Instead, Anne just let herself adore the bounty of nature that had been set loose before them. Gilbert too busied himself with his own thoughts.

While Anne and Gilbert, had had their little incident, things around the schoolhouse had moved along. Only a few of their schoolmates lingered around the steps and Anne assumed that the rest of them were already inside. 

As Gilbert and Anne passed Tillie and Jane they ceased in their whispering and unashamedly stared. Charlie Sloane perked up from whatever he was doing in the grass to gawk at the pair, his eyes wide with surprise. 

Anne wasn’t sure what was drawing their attention, but she’d had enough experience to know that it was probably nothing good. She sped up her pace, practically dragging Gilbert past the schoolhouse doors. Thankfully, he didn’t question it.

As Gilbert was hanging his coat on the hook, Anne raised a gentle hand to her hair, ensuring that it was all still in place. When Gilbert turned around she quickly dropped her arm back to her side. The last thing Anne would want is for Gilbert Blythe to think she was vain.

“Well, Misses Cuthbert,” Gilbert said, and his lips are forming that smug little smirk of his, “it was an honor as well as a pleasure accompanying you to school this morn. I do hope that you find today’s lessons stimulating.”

“Same to you Mr. Blythe,” Anne said, giving him a stately nod.

Gilbert returned it and made to walk away, but just before he could take a step, Anne was emboldened to add something more.

“Oh, and Mr. Blythe?”

Gilbert paused and his back arched as he did a half turn in her direction. His eyebrows were raised in question.

“Do try your best to not go kissing every lady you see. It’s not very gentleman-like.”

Anne had expected Gilbert to go red again or to at least lose his composure a little, but instead, his lips curled, cunning, like a fox.

“I only kiss the prettiest ones.”

Gilbert sent a wink her way, stuffed his hands into his pockets and then strode over to his seat.

It took Anne longer than she’d liked to admit to recover, but when she did, made straight for her seat. Diana was already there, looking as divine as usual. Ruby and Josie Pye stood beside her. Anne would readily admit, to anyone, that they all looked splendid. 

Ruby was all dolled up in a bright green dress that was speckled with small gemstones which shimmered as she swayed. A sheer shawl was draped over her shoulders and it made her look positively dainty. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, not a strand out of place, almost like a ballet dancer. 

Josie Pye was wearing a white dress, one with plenty of frills to go around. Little white doves encircled the dresses hemline and she too wore a pair of lace gloves. Her sleeves puffed out like a princess’ and as Anne looked closer she realized that the girl was not wearing stockings. Typical Josie, always making herself the center of attention. Anne just barely resisted rolling her eyes. 

And Diana, oh her dearest Diana. She wore a dress of a gentle pink hue, that made her look like a blossoming rose. A pale pearl brooch sat at the base of her neck and made her look a thousand times more like a lady. Her usually wavy hair had been transformed into a set of ringlets that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Diana looked every bit as delightful as she deserved to.

As Anne approached the group, Diana’s gaze caught her own. Diana’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes crinkled with joy. 

“Anne!” she shouted, raising her arms as she approached.

“Diana!” Anne said, embracing her friend and squeezing her form. She knew it wasn’t ladylike, but in Anne’s book, friendship came first. 

“Oh Anne,” Diana said, pulling back, to hold Anne at an arm's length, “you look so grand and your hair it makes you look like those ladies you’ve been mentioning of late...like...like—The Graces!”

“Thank you, Diana!” Anne said, giving her dearest friend a squeeze.

“She’s right,” Ruby said, standing on her tiptoes, beside Diana, “you really do look divine.”

Even Josie Pye could not say anything. Instead, she just pursed her lips and let her eyes fall to the side. 

Anne, of course, showered Diana and Ruby with compliments and even spared one or two for Josie. Eventually, Ms. Stacey called for class to start and everyone moved to their seats. 

During a break in their lessons, Diana leaned over and whispered, “Anne my curiosity is killing me. Who braided your hair?”

“I am sorry, Diana, but I am sworn to secrecy. I must protect his honor.”

“ _His?”_ Diana asked, head tilting in curiosity.

‘Whoops,’ Anne thought.

“Yes his,” Anne said. She was frightened for Diana to say something. Of course, they were the most bosom of friends, but they did have their differences. Diana was raised a bit more traditionally and sometimes had a harder time accepting things. Anne loved her all the same, but she found it hard for them to disagree.

“I understand that you can’t tell me, but it’s nothing for him to be ashamed of. In fact,” Diana said, leaning in closer, “I think I’d have to marry a boy if he did my hair up so nicely.”

Anne bit her lips at the tragedy of it all. Jerry would have died to hear those words from Diana’s lips, she just knew it. 

She supposed this was the hard part about being privy to secrets, at times they could be terribly hard to keep. Yet, Anne followed her code of honor and managed to not go betraying her role as a confidant. 

Lessons were quite captivating. Anne was surprised to find herself just as interested in table manners as she was with spelling or learning about Avonela’s history. Things were certainly not as civil as they should have been at the orphanage and most of the people she lived with barely batted an eye at her, much less educated her in proper etiquette. It was nice to finally know how exactly to sit at a table or how low a lady was supposed to dip in a curtsey.

The only thing that distracted her was Gilbert’s gaze. Every so often, Anne would feel his eyes on her, but whenever she turned to look back, his head would straighten and he wouldn’t look away from the board. It was quite peculiar indeed. Anne affirmed to talk it over with Diana later, she understood boys way better than Anne did. 

Epilogue

The picnic was just as lovely as Anne thought it would be. Anne, Diana, and Ruby had grouped together (Josie Pye prancing off to eat with Tillie and Jane and not bothering to invite them.) It was alright though because after a while Gilbert and Moody wandered over and asked to swap food with them, which eventually led to the boys joining them on the blanket. Gilbert stole a bit of Marillia’s pie, but Anne got her revenge by stealing away one of Mary’s special biscuits.

Anne was able to execute all that she had remembered from the lessons which included sitting with poise and holding her fork at the correct angle. Miss Stacey even complimented her on her posture. 

For once, one of Anne’s school days went off without a hitch and at the end of it, Gilbert offered to escort her and Diana home. The three shared lovely bouts of laughter and Anne had no trouble keeping up the easy banter with Gilbert even after they’d dropped off Diana. 

When the two reached Green Gables, Gilbert gave Anne a goofy bow, wished her a good evening, and kissed her hand once more (this time with permission) before parting. 

Anne may have spent just a little bit too long looking after him. At least it was long enough for Jerry to sneak up behind her and he began teasing her over it. Anne punched him in the arm (a little harder than a lady should), but she made up for it by baking him thank-you sweets. The two of them enjoyed the baked goods while watching the sunset from atop a bale of hay in the loft of the barn. Anne let her head fall back into the hay and a sigh escaped her lips. The events of this day were not worth all the riches of the world; she would treasure them for as long as she lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis done my lovelies. Thanks for reading, this was a pleasure to write and I hope it was a pleasure to read! I'd love to hear what you all thought!


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